


Peter's Mer-friend

by gandalfthesassy



Series: The Monkees Reader-Inserts [3]
Category: The Monkees, The Monkees (TV)
Genre: Mermaids au, Multi, because we always need more of those
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-20
Updated: 2017-03-20
Packaged: 2018-10-08 07:32:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10381671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gandalfthesassy/pseuds/gandalfthesassy
Summary: Peter nearly drowns; he's rescued by a beautiful merperson who seems to really like him. What Peter doesn't know is, it's actually the reader. Will he find out? And will the others catch on?Gender-neutral reader. Rated T for swearing and references to suicide.





	1. Late-Night Rescue

The blue-green scales on your legs morphed back into skin cells while you took a power stance, letting your every atom feel the renewal of the ocean in them. You squeezed the last few drops of seawater from your hair and you glanced up at the seaside entrance to the house. Inside, you could hear the middle bars of a song you knew fairly well--band practice was a regular occurrence in that house. 

When you’d walked the whole way back, you watched with interest while the four boys to whom this place belonged jammed together, not a care in the world. You heard the words more clearly now: “...turned my smile into a frown/It's such a pity the shape I'm in/I must get on my feet again/Can't stay this way/This just doesn't seem to be my day.” You hummed along, leaning against the door frame. They wrapped up their performance and Davy walked over to Micky to talk about something. Mike and Peter spotted you and waved with warm, genuine smiles. You headed over to the two of them, Peter at his keyboard and Mike sitting atop an amp, guitar on his knee.

“How was your swim?” greeted Peter. 

“Warmer than I expected,” you beamed. “But it’s quite nice out, isn’t it?”

“Aw, we wouldn’t know,” Mike replied dryly, “the thermometer broke.” You rolled your eyes as Peter giggled. “But really, we’re glad you had a good swim. You hadn’t seen water much where you came from before, had you?”

“Well, I drank it. It just wasn’t, you know, a giant body of it. I guess I hadn’t. I think beaches deserve the press they get.” 

“What’s that about beaches?” Davy had suddenly appeared between Peter and Mike. 

“You know, life’s a beach,” droned Mike, to which you all groaned. 

Micky came to join the conversation, drawing Mike and Davy into a thorough discussion about guitars--you weren’t quite paying attention. You were more intrigued by Peter looking at you, but the minute you caught him, he suddenly found the white keys on his keyboard very interesting. Behind him, the glare of the sunlight gave him a golden outline. You couldn’t shake the feeling he wanted to talk to you, or that he knew something you didn’t, but you could never get him alone long enough to talk. 

At least, you didn’t think so. But one night, a week later, you, Peter and Davy were splashing in the shallow waters of the ocean. You flicked water at Davy, who then flicked it back at you, and Peter splashed both of you (and himself) while giggling madly. At some point, one of you suggested that you go out a little farther. Someone else hesitated, but then suddenly all three of you were up to your necks in the ocean, treading water. None of you had seriously considered that it was near impossible to play out this far. 

“I should head back in,” Davy was the first to give up. “I think we can come back and swim more if we like tomorrow.” He began to swim back, but you stopped him, staring at something rapidly approaching. “What?”

“Peter, look out!” you cried as a large wave engulfed an unsuspecting Peter and took you and Davy with it. 

Everything in your body sprang to life. Your legs fused and turned to scales, your chest covered itself in just enough seaweed for decency, your hair tinted teal, and the sides of your neck fanned out as you took in a gasp of water. You stopped yourself from tumbling and darted towards Peter, getting his head above the surface so he wouldn’t drown. You took a huge gulp of water.

You poked your own head above the surface. On the beach, a waterlogged Davy coughed up salty water, hunched over and on his hands and knees. Just as he turned to the ocean, you hoisted Peter on your back and took him to your little alcove, in this cave-like obsidian formation about a mile out from the beach. You couldn’t turn back yet; your body had to regain energy and recover from the unexpected shift to your mer form. You pulled Peter up onto a flatter rock in the center of the alcove, the soft glow coming from some bioluminescent algae that had crawled up the walls. As he coughed, you rolled him gently onto his side so he could get the water out, which he managed to do. His eyes shot open when he realized someone was with him. He cried out in surprise, and you echoed him unintentionally, swimming backwards about a foot. 

“Who are you?” he rasped, dried out by the salt water. His eyes scanned you with some interest but they never went too fast. You brought the end of your tail out of the water and he jolted upright, his feet dipping by accident into the water. “You’re a...you’re…oh my god…”

“Merfolk,” you responded, your voice now with a slight rasp thanks to the water-breathing. “I’m a merperson. I know, you didn’t think they existed, did you?”

“No, actually,” he shook his head, staring at you with such fascinated intensity that you instinctively looked away. “I’d just never seen one up close. I’m glad it’s you.” You figured he’d keep talking, but when you looked at him, he was twiddling his thumbs. 

“You alright?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know how to ask this without sounding creepy…” Cautiously, you swam to his side. 

“Ask me,” you coaxed. He saw you smiling expectantly and he caved. 

“Can I, uh, touch your hair?” 

You blinked, a little surprised, but you shrugged and turned around so he could. “Go for it, but don’t tug.” You heard him give a little cry of excitement and you felt a rather gentle hand pet your hair. 

“Is this your real hair?”

You laughed. “It is! The color’s real too.” You turned back to him, and you could see, even in the glow around you, that he’d covered his flaming cheeks. “Could you scoot over for a second?”

“Why?” You crossed your arms, and he did so. You pulled yourself onto the rock beside him, taking your tail out of the water with a dramatic sloshing of seawater. “Oh! Oh my god, your tail! It’s beautiful!” It was your turn to blush. “Have you...did you grow up with that color tail? I’m sorry, is that too personal?”

“Well, it’s a funny story. When I was young, I took a tumble off a cliff and hit my head on a rock. When I woke up, I was underwater. What I could see was, my human legs had fused into this, and my hair became this, and I was  _ breathing underwater _ . So it just happened.” 

“You were a human before this?”

“Still am,” you couldn’t help but tell him. “Now I can usually predict when it happens. Makes swimming hard, it’s a matter of being discovered by friends.” 

“You don’t want them to know you’re part merfolk?”

“Are you kidding? They don’t believe they exist! If they saw me, they’d laugh and call me a phony.” You rolled back into the water, leaning against the rock. “But I’m glad you do.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” he seemed genuinely confused. “You saved my life! And I don’t know if you know this, but I do like to trust people. Uh, merfolk.” 

“Well, that’s a good attitude to have. Are you feeling okay?”

“Never better.”

“Okay enough to swim back?” 

“Uh-huh.” You picked up on him gazing at you. You tilted your head. “You look like someone I know.” You stopped breathing for a moment. “But they’re dead so it couldn’t be.” 

“Oh. Well, here, I’ll lead you back to shore. Follow me!” You popped underwater, and he slipped under with you, opening his eyes. You took his hand, waving your head towards shore. He nodded, cheeks puffed and holding his breath. You swam to shore, making sure Peter came up for air regularly.

At last, a late-night wave washed you up, and Peter climbed to his feet, looking down at you. “Oh, right, you can’t walk,” he realized. “How silly. I’m sorry.”

“(y/n)! Peter!” called a voice from the house. “Where are you?” 

“I have to go,” he turned to the house. You quickly dove beneath the waves. “Will I see you aga--” But he couldn’t see you. “Huh,” he murmured. He glanced around, then faced the house again. You felt a slight pain, and your fins began to split. You scrambled to swim far enough down so he wouldn’t think it was you. Just as your gills receded, you washed up on shore, coughing and gasping. Peter heard you and rushed over, kneeling beside you. “Are you okay?” You looked up at him, now feeling the cold of the water getting to you. You shivered. “(y/n)! I, oh my god, I can’t believe you survived!” He embraced you tightly. 

“Peter! Pete,” you gasped, now the cold had doubled with his drenched self hugging you. “I can’t believe  _ you  _ survived. How’d you do that?”

“I’ll tell you back inside,” he insisted, “but let’s hurry. Don’t wanna pass out.” He laughed, and you half-laughed as he helped you to your feet. He kept his hand in yours, but you stayed in place. He turned back. “You alright?”  _ Goddamnit _ , he somehow looked cute even when he’d nearly drowned. “Oh I’m so sorry,” he chattered and let your hand go, “you’re probably not in the mood to hold hands. Let’s just go inside, why don’t we?” He walked on ahead. You cringed at yourself as you followed behind him--why would you lie like that? He’d said that he liked to trust people, but you’d gone ahead and lied to him. And he believed in merfolk even without real proof. He looked so happy seeing you--well, sort of you--and you couldn’t help your stomach knotting. You hated to admit it, but you knew he’d think you were weird, or at least divided, if you admitted you were half-human. You didn’t even consider how he might have felt if you told him you loved him. 

While you mulled over what had happened, you made it back inside, shutting the door behind you. Micky and Davy rushed to dry you off and put blankets over your shoulders. You thanked them and wrapped it around you. “What happened?” Mike looked at both of you, arms folded. 

Before you could fabricate some kind of reasonable lie, Peter blurted out: “I was saved by a merperson!” Everyone’s eyes fell on him, but he pushed his shoulders back. “Yes, I  _ was _ , before you say I wasn’t. I very distinctly remember being brought by a merperson to this little cave…” And he recalled, in scary accurate detail, what the alcove looked like, and what mer-you had looked like, and how mer-you mysteriously vanished and  _ you  _ had washed ashore. “Well, didn’t you see them, (y/n)?” 

Everyone turned their gazes on you. You panicked. “I don’t remember anything. If I was rescued by anyone, I don’t remember seeing them, but it’s possible.”

“You  _ believe _ him?” Mike demanded. 

“I don’t see any reason not to.” You didn’t look at him, but you could sense Peter was looking at you gratefully. Mike nodded, seemingly accepting this response. 

“But it was so specific,” Micky whined. “It couldn’t be real.” 

“I’ve heard crazier shit that turned out to be true. I don’t think a merperson is out of the question. For God’s sake, we live by the beach. I’m surprised we didn’t see one already.” 

“Yeah, see?” Peter jumped in. “Told you.” 

“Any chance you’ll see them again?” Davy spoke up. 

“I don’t know. I hope so,” he sighed in what was undeniably love, and you fidgeted. 

“What’s the matter, (y/n)?” Micky’s tone turned to teasing. “Jealous?” 

“Of Peter, yeah. I wanna see a merperson, especially if they saved me. I wanna thank them!” 

“I meant of the merperson.”

“I get to see Peter every day. I don’t have to be.” You seemed to fool the others, because you got a stern (but gentle) talking-to from Mike about swimming safety and being out late, to which you and Peter mumbled, “We’re sorry,” and you were herded to bed. Luckily you’d dried off enough that sleeping wasn’t wholly uncomfortable, but you tossed and turned until at last the sun streamed through the window. 


	2. Seashell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reader avoids blowing their cover, but instead, they nearly blow their relationship with Peter.

Outside your door, before you could even get out of bed the next morning, you heard two of the Monkees talking. 

“...they’re not real.”

“Then how do you explain what I saw?”

“A crazy dream, maybe, a trip. You hallucinating before your inevitable death, maybe.”

“Davy, I thought of all people  _ you’d _ believe me. But I guess it’s my word against all of you. But you haven’t even seen them, how do you know they’re not real?”

“Because I haven’t seen them.” 

You got up and opened the door, stopping their conversation dead. “Now that I remember it,” you interrupted, “I do seem to remember something fish-like bringing me to shore.”

“See? I told you!” Peter crowed, pointing at Davy, who looked up at you. 

“You can’t tell me you believe this stuff,” he shook his head at you. “Merpeople are like the Easter Bunny.”

“Well, they’re not a singular, holiday-related species,” you told him. “They’ve existed long before we even knew about them.”

“What are you, a mer-expert?” 

You chuckled. Oh, if only he knew. But you didn’t say anything, you simply pushed past them and went to put on your beach shoes. 

“Are you going swimming again, (y/n)?” 

“Yeah,” you called back. “Where do we keep the towels?” Mike, who had suddenly appeared next to you, pointed to a cabinet. “Thanks.” You reached inside and obtained one, draping it over your arm. You turned around and took on a posh waiter’s accent, your body going stiff and formal. You droned: “Ah yes, table for the, err, the Monkees? I wasn’t aware simians could place orders! This is absurd! Absurd, I say!” Micky laughed from somewhere in the room, and you saw Mike break into a smile. But Davy didn’t smile so wide, and Peter seemed preoccupied with the edge of his sleeve. You walked over to them in the manner of this character you’d assumed, eliciting a real giggle from Mike and even more laughter from Micky. “Ah, Miss Jones, I presume? Oh! Oh my goodness, you’re  _ Davy  _ Jones! I am so sorry, I didn’t recognize you.”

“You were probably looking a little too high,” Davy smiled a little, riffing off of the character. 

“I’m afraid we don’t have any tables right now, sir, but we do have a locker under the sea. Will that be alright?” Davy tried so hard to fight back a laugh. You raised your eyebrows and he broke, to which you also laughed. With everyone laughing, you could feel the tension dissipate. You dropped the character and tapped Peter on the shoulder. He looked at you, startled out of his thoughts. “You doing alright?”

“Yeah...how did you survive? I know the merperson took me to their cave, but you just kinda vanished.”

“Did I?”

“There’s no way you could have survived for that long.”

“You’re right. Are you sure you didn’t see me there?” He nodded. “Well, do you wanna come swimming with me? We might see them.”

“But if we don’t, you won’t believe me,” he mumbled. “You’ll think I’m crazy or something. I bet you already think I’m crazy.”

“No, Micky’s crazy, I’m pretty sure,” you said just loud enough for the others to hear, and Micky shrugged dramatically. “Listen, man, I’ll believe you even if we don’t see them. I can tell when you’re lying. Mostly because you drop it a few moments later, but my point is that I can tell. You haven’t backed down. So I think there’s some truth in it. You wanna come along?”

“I’ll be down in a second,” he told you as you walked away. Just as you stepped outside, you heard Peter say something to the others like, “At least  _ some _ folks still have faith nowadays.” Well, you didn’t need faith. You  _ were  _ the thing, so you sort of had to believe it. 

You were wading in the water when someone dashed across the sand towards you. You turned around just as Peter waved and face-planted into the half-wet sand where the tide had just receded. He got up and spit the sand from his mouth. You laughed, but just then, one of your feet hit a slippery rock and you tumbled to the ground, your rear and hands plopping into the sand beneath the waves. The two of you kept laughing, and he crawled over to sit beside you, in the shallowest part of the water. You turned around to face the horizon as he was, and the two of you slowly stopped laughing, enjoying the weather and being together. For a few moments you stayed like that. Then you started to sing, softly and slowly, a song that wasn’t exactly soft and slow. 

“I’m gonna write a little letter/Gonna mail it to my local DJ,” you grooved quietly, moving a little where you sat. “It’s a rockin’ little record I/Want my jockey to play.” Peter joined in at the refrain, “Roll over Beethoven, gotta hear it again today.” You two went silent again, staring at the sky. You glanced over at him when a question occurred to you. “Do you hallucinate when you get high?”

“Sometimes,” he tilted his head to the side for a moment. “If you’re talking about the merperson, I wasn’t high when we went out.”

“You sure acted like you were.”

“No, when I get giddy that’s not when I’m high. That’s just me being with the people who matter to me.” He looked over at you. “And that includes you.” 

You smiled at him, nodding. “I care about you too, Pete.” It wasn’t quite what you wanted to hear, but it was good enough for now. 

You sat there for nearly fifteen minutes, sitting and occasionally looking at each other, when Peter suddenly leapt to his feet. “What’s up?” you looked up at him. He glanced around.

“What time of the day do merpeople usually come up for air?” Befuddled, you just stared at him. He looked down at you when you didn’t answer. “I mean, when do you think would be the best time to look?”

“If I knew, I’d have met one already,” you teased a little, but sitting in this water was starting to make your legs ache, wanting to glide through while you breathed deeply the water that had threatened to take the friends you loved, but you’d conquered it…“Peter, let’s go hunt for seashells.”

“Sure,” he agreed and helped you to your feet. You combed the beach for shells, making sure to stay just close enough that Peter thought you were still following him. Finally, when you thought he was very involved in looking at one off-white shell in particular, you ran into the water, diving under when it became too deep to wade. Your whole being turned into your mer-self and you relaxed. While under the surface, you scooped up a particularly vibrant shell, and you poked your head above the surface. 

“Hello!” you called. Peter whipped to face you. 

“Oh my god, it’s you!” He ran out as far as he could go, and you swam up to him. “I wasn’t dreaming.”

“I’d hope not,” you grinned. “Otherwise I’d be worried that you recognized me and I hadn’t. I just remembered I never asked your name.”

“It’s Peter. Sometimes people call me Pete, but that’s only if you really like me.” 

“Peter. I like it.”

“What about you?”

“Don’t worry about that. You wouldn’t know me anyway.” Peter looked confused and a little betrayed, but he relented. 

“I want to thank you for saving my life the other night. I just wasn’t looking, and, well, (y/n) tried to warn me but I got pulled under. I don’t think I would’ve made it without you.” 

“No worries,” you waved a hand dismissively. 

“Um, I have a question.” 

“No, I’m not going to kiss you.”

“Aw!” he pouted. 

“I barely know you.”

“Sometimes I wonder…” His mind drifted for a moment. 

“Wonder what?”

He looked back to you again. “I just wonder.” You snickered. “You said you can turn back into a human?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Well...if it’s not too much trouble, and you  _ can  _ do it, you know, you can make it happen...I wanna see what you look like as a human.”

You gaped at him. “Are you kidding me?”

He looked surprised. “Am I?”

“First of all, I can’t totally control it.” Well, actually, you could. The previous time had been an accident. “Second of all, again, I barely know you. Third of all, some of us have things to hide.”

“Like what?” he folded his arms and stared at you. 

“Like…” You didn’t have an answer.

“I get it,” he shook his head. “You don’t wanna reveal your super secret identity. That’s okay! But, can I ask you something else?”

You stared at him judgmentally. “When have I ever said no?” 

“Good point. Uh, my friend--(y/n), that is--they were with me in the water, along with our friend Davy. Davy I think got out pretty quickly because he was closer to shore, but they were sort of pulled out with me. But you know what? I think they were too close to the shore to get pulled out, and I know they aren’t too bad of a swimmer.”

“So what’s your question?” You hoped to God it wasn’t what you thought he was gonna ask. You hoped he wouldn’t know you were, well,  _ you _ . 

“Did you save them?”

You blinked. Wow, he really  _ hadn’t _ put it together. Suddenly the ‘dumb guy’ thing on the TV show wasn’t a complete fabrication. “I only saved you. If (y/n) survived, maybe they just know how to survive in water.”

“Hmm, maybe.”

“I think…” He looked at you, and you froze for a moment. He  _ really  _ looked confused. Your stomach twisted into an even tighter knot. “Maybe you should just talk to them.”

“They don’t seem to wanna talk.”

“Oh, I don’t know. If they can survive a wave like that, surely they’ll have a secret.” You winked. “You get me?”

“Oh,  _ yeah _ !” he pointed at you for a moment, excited. Then it faded. “No, I don’t.”

“Just ask them how they survived.”

“But I already did. They didn’t answer me.”

“Maybe it’s not what you asked, but how you asked it. What if...ooh! I’ve got an idea. What if,” and you knew you’d be the instrument of your own undoing, but you thought you’d make it dramatic, “what if you just like...asked them to the beach?” 

“You know, they asked me to come with them to the beach today! Oh shit, speaking of, I think I lost (y/n). We were looking for seashells.” You looked down and discovered, to your shock, you were still holding that shell you’d picked up when you shifted. You took advantage of Peter’s wildly wandering gaze to toss it to the side. But he saw it hit the sand. “Oh hey! That’s a really pretty one.” He picked it up, turning it over in his hands. You tried to contain your amusement at his excitement. “This is...this is actually really nice. You know, it reminds me of (y/n), it’s something they would pick up.”

“You talk about (y/n) a lot.”

“But I barely know you.”

“Fair, but you just mentioned (y/n) three times in the past three minutes. Have you considered…” You stopped yourself. “Nah.”

“No, what?” 

“Don’t worry about it,” you assured him. “You oughta go look for your friend, yeah?”

“I do, don’t I.” Peter leapt to his feet and looked around. “Wow, they just like...disappeared. Do you think they went back to the house?” 

“It’s worth a look,” you suggested. 

“Alright. Alright, I’ll go find (y/n). Thank you again, merperson.” He bolted for the house before you could say anything else. 

“Hope it goes well!” you yelled after him, and he waved his hand without turning around. You slammed your hands against your face. Was this your new life? Pretending to be some random person who happened to become a merperson only when Peter happened to be there? You figured that you should go ahead and change. But it  _ was _ awfully nice out, and Peter would probably walk through the door and forget what he was looking for anyway.

The thought hurt, but it was convenient. 

You dove back under the water, thinking someone was looking at you. You hadn’t spotted anyone, but you realized you’d been sitting there for long enough that someone had to have seen you, if not one of the boys, then someone else who knew of the beach would see you. 

At last, when you’d turned back into you, you “found” the pretty seashell you’d gotten for Peter and picked it up. You dashed up to the house, not noticing you’d left pretty much all your stuff on the beach. But none of the boys said anything--mostly because they were either doing nothing or fiddling with their instruments. More specifically, Micky and Mike were hanging out on the couch, and Peter was coaching Davy, who’d borrowed Mike’s guitar for a few minutes. 

“...no, here, try this: it’s D7  _ then  _ G, not G then D7. The D7 chord resolves to the--”

“(y/n)!” Davy cried out. You jumped and waved. 

“Hey guys,” they all looked at you as you came forward. Peter put his guitar aside but stayed seated. “We went hunting for seashells and I found this one.” 

“Well, that’s mighty pretty,” Mike rose and came over, glancing at it as you turned it around in your hands. Micky jumped up behind you, trying to get a look while Davy stood on your other side gazing at it. “Now how’d you find a shell like this?”

“Took a little digging,” you fibbed, “but ultimately I sort of...well, okay, I couldn’t find any really good ones, so I just took my chances under the water.” 

“You were gone a really long time,” Peter suddenly spoke up. You all fell silent. “I tried to look for you.” You shifted in place. 

“‘m sorry, I got distracted. And I know I keep disappearing on you, but...it’s, it’s not that I don’t care about you.” You slowly walked towards him. The silence in the room pushed you forward. “I get distracted a lot and I know it’s something I gotta work on, but I spent time looking for something for you. I’m sorry for scaring you, but unless I’m gone for real and you gotta look for me, I need alone time sometimes. What I’m saying is, I’m really glad I get to spend time with you, Peter. But if something’s bugging you, I wanna know what it is.” You placed the shell gingerly in his lap. “I’m gonna wash up,” you spun around and told the others, fast-walking to the bathroom, not wanting to see or hear anything more from anyone that day. 


	3. Watch This

The next day, you found yourself reading a book on the couch. By your side, the shell you’d sneakily taken back from Peter sat. Mike sat against the front of it, reading a teen magazine with some silly insert about the band. You leaned forward to peek over his shoulder, to which he scooted away a little, and you pouted. 

“You know, you were right,” he turned his head to you. “There’s a merperson who lives near the beach.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I saw them talking to Peter, and then he came running back.”

“What’d they look like?”

“Blue-green tail, teal hair, just as Peter said. I’d like to meet them.”  _ If only you could _ , you snarked in your head. “Are you  _ sure _ you haven’t seen one? You have gone swimming quite a lot, and at the same times when Peter said he saw them.” 

“What are you implying?”

“Nothing! But the way I see it, (y/n), there’s two reasons. One: you’re unlucky, and you’re not attractive to merpeople.”

“I’ll buy that.”

“Two: he’s never seen you or the merperson at the same time, so maybe--”

“You know what I think? I think that poor merperson is probably sick and tired of people getting in their business. Maybe we ought to let them live their life.” He stared at you knowingly. “What?”

“It’s you, isn’t it.”

“Fuck’s sake, Mike,” you threw your book to the side. 

“Well, shit, just when I thought I knew everything about you.”

You shrugged exaggeratedly. “I just get more interesting by the day.”

“Listen, you gotta tell Peter.”

“But why?”

“Why not? He already thinks you’re swell, so this merperson thing will really make his day.”

“That’s the problem. He thinks the merperson is swell. He like, kept accidentally hitting on me. I mean, I  _ did _ tell him to talk to real me. I haven’t exactly been helpful lately but maybe--”

“Peter! Don’t do it!”

You and Mike ran to the source of the noise: Micky staring fearfully out the window, biting his nails. 

“Where’s Peter?” you demanded. Micky pointed out a familiar figure walking slowly into the sea. “What’s he doing?”

“Looking for his mer-friend.”

“He’s gonna hurt himself!” Mike cried out. Before you could hear anything else, you swiped the seashell from the couch and bolted for the door. You ran down the back stairs to the beach, just as the top of Peter’s head disappeared beneath the water. You dropped the shell in the sand near the waves, and you tried to swim after him as you were. Eventually, you caught up, dragging him to the surface. He struggled in your arms. 

“I gotta find them! I gotta tell them I love them and I wanna live in the sea with them!” he screamed. You held him above water through it all, changing into your merperson self. 

“Cool it, Peter!” you shouted. He settled down. 

“You know, you’re not supposed to rescue a drowning person unless you’re trained.”

“I’m a merperson. I’d say I’m trained.” He looked back at you and gasped. 

“It’s you! You came to see me again! You’re really observant? How’d you know?” You let him go and drifted back towards shore, looking at him sadly. “Aw, don’t be sad. I can’t handle when you’re sad. You make me so happy when I see you, I don’t want you to be sad. What is it?” You brought in a deep breath and released it. 

“Did you talk to your friend?”

“I couldn’t face them. I’m so sorry, I, I love you, but I love them more, but with you I get all excited. I just don’t know what to do. I feel bad! You’re both so alike, I couldn’t just…”

“I think your friend deserves you more,” you told him sincerely, crawling to shore to get the shell. Peter followed you on his hands and knees. 

“How did you even know they were worried? And where’d you get that shell? Is (y/n) okay?!”

“They’re okay, Pete.” 

He blinked. “Did you just call me…” You held out the seashell. “(y/n) gave that to me. But you found it, I thought. How'd they get it? I’m so confused!”

“Then let me show you something,” you crawled into the shallow part of the ocean. “You see my tail, and all the weirdly colored bits about me?”

“Yeah…” He held the shell tightly, like it was all he had of the real you. 

“Watch this.” You forced the shift, getting to your feet once you could balance on your own splitting tail, now legs, and your lungs filled with air. Your gills fanned out one last time and disappeared into your neck. You were back in your swimsuit, back to normal. You stood straight and tall. 

Peter covered his mouth with one hand and suppressed a loud noise of surprise. 

“It’s me,” you smiled a little. “I didn’t mean to lie to you like I did, but then you kept talking about how great mer-me was, and how you couldn’t talk to the real me, and I felt awful. But I can tell that you love me, no matter what I am. Am I wrong about anything?”

He shook his head, holding the shell with both hands. “You’re right on.”

“I love you too, Peter.” You came and sat in front of him. He put the shell to the side and scooted so his knees were touching yours. “You’re so dear to me, and I’m glad to have you.” You kissed him briefly, testing the waters. “Oh god, we’re still--”

“It’s okay,” he giggled, getting so close that he had to put his legs over your thighs, and you opened your legs to allow him closer. He draped his arms over your shoulders and declared: “(y/n), I love you more than I’ve loved anyone before, and I really mean that. I want to be with you as much as we can bear.” 

“Do you wanna date me?”

“Of course I--wait a second. I’m supposed to ask that!”

“Merpeople are  _ supposed _ to stay in the sea,” you snarked at him. “But I’m not going anywhere. Do you wanna date me?” He answered you with a deep, longing kiss, which you reciprocated after a second. The two of you tangled up in each other’s arms and legs, exploring each other’s mouths and bodies. 

You didn’t want to go inside, but you had to at some point. The setting sun turned the sky purple, and you came up for air for a long while. “Peter,” you caught your breath. 

“Uh huh?” He looked as if everything good that had ever happened to him had just been topped. He smiled wider than any other smile you’d seen him make. 

“Let’s go inside. I love you, but I also like sleeping.” The two of you managed to detangle yourselves, and you cradled the shell in one hand. Peter gently intertwined his fingers with your other hand, and you walked back to the house, occasionally exchanging loving glances with each other. 

You saw, in the window just as you were heading up the stairs, the others. But they scattered once you came closer to the house. You didn’t mind too much: they were going to find out eventually. And the merperson thing could wait until tomorrow, no later. But for now, you had a double date with Peter and your soft, warm bed. 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope I didn't write Peter too childish or like, stupid or anything. He's just very chill and sweet. Sort of a blend of rl!Peter and the show.


End file.
